


The Ruined Prophecy - Midnight

by bluejayfarfalle



Series: The Ruined Prophecy [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, StarClan Messed Up, The New Prophecy, The New Prophecy AU, also i still need to reread the new prophecy so updates will probably be slow, if i can even survive this arc, its gonna be rlly bad at the start but it picks up later i promise, sorry there's no bramblesorrel, there's gonna be follow up arcs for like po3 and oots and avos and all that crud
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejayfarfalle/pseuds/bluejayfarfalle
Summary: StarClan chose the wrong cats. Their prophecy has been torn to pieces, and great destruction is sure to fall upon the forest.The Clans have been living in peace since BloodClan was driven from the forest, but a prophecy rises among their ranks. Darkness, air, water, and sky will fall apart and shake the forest bare. At least, this is what Sorreltail of ThunderClan has been told; Sorreltail and five others must make their way to the place where the sun is lost to listen to what midnight has to tell them.AU of The New Prophecy with different main characters.





	1. Prologue

_A thick, heavy silence lay upon the forest. The_ night was growing darker than ever, with no moon and only the cold shimmer of the stars to illuminate the land. At the bottom of a large hollow, a large mound of stone stood, reflecting the starshine. The air was beginning to chill, marking the beginning of the transition from greenleaf to leaf-fall.

The wind was soft and nearly silent, shaking the branches of the surrounding trees. Four great oaks stood around the hollow. A cluster of bushes parted to reveal a cat, her bluish-gray fur glimmering with the light of Silverpelt above. She stepped delicately down from her spot, down to the boulder’s base.

Sitting on a pile of rocks that lie by the larger one, she raised her head to look around. As if called by a signal, more cats began to appear, slipping into the hollow from every direction. They padded down to sit as close to the great rock as they could until the lower slopes were filled with lithe shapes gazing up at the leader-like she-cat.

The cat who had appeared first rose to her paws, bounding up to the top of the rock to address the cats. “I’m sure you’ve all heard,” she meowed. “A doom that will change the fate of the Clans has been foretold in the stars.”

By the bottom of the rock, another cat bowed his tawny-colored head. “I have seen this too. There will be many deaths and a great challenge.”

“Darkness, air, water, and the sky will fall apart, shaking the forest bare,” the first cat went on. “Nothing will be as it is now, nor as it has been before.”

“The greatest storm in the history of the Clans is coming,” meowed another voice. Murmurs spread through the group of cats, repeating the word _storm_ until it had been passed around the circle, making it sound as though thunder rumbled through their ranks. The she-cat raised her tail, and they fell silent.

As soon as the mumbling died away, a lean cat with a glossy black pelt spoke from a bit further away from the first cat’s perch. “Can nothing change what is about to happen? Not even the courage and spirit of the greatest warriors?”

“The doom will come,” the blue-gray she-cat replied. “Even if the Clans meet it like warriors, they may not survive.” Lifting her head, she let her deep blue gaze travel around the hollow. “You have all seen what must befall the forest,” she added. “And you know what must be done. If we are to have any hope of making it through this, cats must be chosen. They will hold the Clans’ destiny in their paws. Are you ready to make your choices before all of StarClan?”

As she finished speaking, her silvery pelt ruffled, though there was no more wind to disturb it. The whole clearing was still.

The bracken-colored tom rose to his paws, starlight turning the fur on his shoulders to silver. “I will begin,” he announced. He glanced sideways to meet the gaze of a light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw. “Crookedstar, do I have permission to speak for RiverClan?” The tabby bowed his head in agreement, and the tom went on, “Then I invite you to all see and approve my choice.”

He tipped his head back to stare at the sky. The stars above began shining brighter and brighter, a golden shape in the outline of a cat becoming visible before the lightshow vanished completely. Many cats squinted and tried to get closer to see it more clearly.

“That one?” questioned the blue-gray cat, her gaze fixed on the now normal stars. “Are you sure, Oakheart? She doesn't even--”

The tip of the bracken-colored tom's tail flicked back and forth. “Odd. And I was sure that choice would please you, Bluestar,” he meowed, amusement clear in his tone. “Do you not think she is suitable for this mission? She was trained nicely, and has much useful knowledge.”

“She was excellently taught.” Bluestar's neck fur rose as if he had said something to challenge her, then lay flat again. “But how will we get the message to her? Mudfur can't know about this.”

"Things will align in time, Bluestar," Oakheart assured her. "The journey is just beginning, after all. Wait half a moon and she will be ready."

The slender she-cat responded with a flutter of her ear. “I suppose so. Does the rest of StarClan agree?” she asked.

A quiet murmur of assent rose from the watching cats, and the stars twinkled back into the light.

Now, the black cat stood up and padded to the side of the rock, then jumped to the top to join Bluestar. “Here is my choice,” he called. “See and approve it.”

The clearing visibly darkened as clouds rolled over it, and Bluestar felt her chest tighten. She stared up at the image for some moments before nodding. “He has great potential for a cat his age,” she agreed.

“But Nightstar-- could he make it?” yowled another cat.

The black cat’s head whipped around and his claws dug into the stone he was standing on. “Are you calling him weak?”

“There’s reason enough for it.” The answer was shot back with a slight hint of irritation. “He’s so young! How do you expect him to survive?”

“Then that could make him the best choice,” Bluestar reasoned calmly. “If the Clans cannot find strengths in others now, all will be lost. Perhaps it will take cats with great hope to understand what has to be done.” She paused for a moment, but no other objections were brought to attention. “Does StarClan approve?”

Many cats hesitated, but it was not long before nods spread to all of the assembled cats. The stars seemed to waver briefly, and when it was over, the dark figure had gone.

Another black cat stood up and approached the great rock, limping on one twisted paw. “My turn, I’d say,” he rasped. “See and approve my choice.”

The bright shape that lit the sky appeared to be almost like the moon, shining down on an image of a cat, and the cats peered at it for some time before anyone spoke.

“Interesting,” the blue she-cat exclaimed at last. “You have chosen a fine young warrior, Deadfoot.”

“I had noticed, thank you, Bluestar,” the black tom meowed dryly.

“He may be a fine warrior,” the bracken-colored tom protested from behind, having moved to the back of the crowd, “but is it worth the risk?”

“As risky as he may be,” Deadfoot retorted, “this young cat has skills we rarely see the likes of. He has the ability to bind cats together. With the cats we've chosen, this group may need it. One day he might make a fine leader of WindClan.”

“One day is not now,” Bluestar pointed out. “I see your point, Oakheart. However--”

Deadfoot’s tail lashed furiously and his neck fur bristled as he glared at Bluestar. “This is my choice,” he insisted. “Do you dare to say that he is not worthy? You would allow Nightstar's decision, but not mine?”

The moon-like shape was whisked away by darkness before being replaced by the dimmer outline from before, when ShadowClan had presented their choice. Bluestar hummed, nodding slightly. “I suppose,” she murmured, nodding slowly. “Does StarClan approve? Remember what exactly we’re putting at stake here.”

The cats began muttering things to each other in small groups, casting shady glances at the shape in the sky and at the cat staring up at it. Deadfoot was staring back with a fury in his eyes, his fur fluffed up so that he looked twice his size. He was clearly ready to take on any cat who may question or challenge him.

After a long moment, the chattering faded off and Bluestar asked once more, “Does the Clan approve?” The concurrence came, but it was low and reluctant, and a few cats stayed silent. Bluestar let out an ill-tempered growl as she turned to sweep her eyes across the group.

When the sky had cleared again, Oakheart meowed, “ThunderClan has not yet had a choice made yet, Bluestar.”

“I know-- but I am ready now,” she replied. “See and approve my choice.” She gazed up proudly as a light shone on a patched outline formed in the sky.

Oakheart stared at it and stretched his jaws wide in a soundless mew of laughter. “That one! Bluestar, you never cease to surprise me.”

“Why?” Bluestar’s tone betrayed that she was deeply unsettled. “She is a noble young cat, to come of age soon. She is fit for the challenges that will be brought from this disastrous future we have seen.”

The tom’s ears twitched. “Did I say she was not?”

Bluestar held his gaze, not looking at the other cats as she demanded, “Does the Clan approve?” When the agreement came, strong and certain, she gave Oakheart a contemptuous flick of her tail and looked away. 

“Cats of StarClan,” she meowed, raising her voice. “Your choices have been made. Soon the journey must begin. These cats must meet the terrible storm that will be released onto all of the Clans. Return to your Clans, and make sure each cat is ready.”

She paused, and her eyes blazed with a fierce silver light. “We can choose warriors to save the Clans, but beyond that, we cannot help them. May the spirits of all our warrior ancestors go with these cats, wherever we may lead them.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorrelpaw has a strange dream and finally earns her name.

_The young tortoiseshell yawned as she slipped_ through a space between two shrubs, her eyes droopy from exhaustion. It was a warm night, as expected for late greenleaf, and the forest was filled with little creatures just begging to be caught. She could see the fidgeting of prey in the undergrowth, but she could never exactly pinpoint where it was coming from. Around her, clumps of fern and bramble appeared to glow under the moon.

She stumbled into a wide clearing and turned her head all around in confusion. She had not recalled being in this part of the forest before. The grass was soft and springy, gleaming silver in the moonshine. The grass stretched as far as a smooth rock where another cat was sitting. Stars, just like the frosty pinpricks of light in Silverpelt above, speckled his pelt, and his eyes shined like two tiny moons.

“Whitestorm!” She ran up to the white warrior-- no, her father! It had been many moons since he had died in the battle against BloodClan, a gang of bloodthirsty rogues who wished to take over the forest. She was about to nuzzle him, to sit beside him and tell her all about what she’d been doing in the past moons, but he stopped her. With a jolt, she realized she must be dreaming.

“Hush, young warrior.” His voice was warm and smooth like honey. She shrunk back, though her eyes were still wide in awe. “There is something that you must know.”

She sat in her spot, gazing up at his bright yellow eyes in awe. “Of course, Whitestorm! I’m listening,” she mewed.

“A time of great danger is coming to your home,” he began, blinking down at her. “A prophecy, older than you or I, must come to life if the Clans are to make it through this challenge. You must meet with three other cats at the new moon, and you must listen to what midnight tells you.”

“What does that mean?” She tipped her head to one side, trying to act cheerful despite the feeling of dread crawling up her spine. “What’s gonna happen? And who’s midnight?”

“All will become clear,” Whitestorm replied.

His last line echoed in her head as his voice faded away. The lights above grew dimmer, leaving dark shadows stretching across her vision. “No, wait!” she called, trying to bound up to him. No matter how hard she tried, the distance between them didn’t seem to shorten. “Please, stay! Whitestorm!”

She let out a terrified yowl as the darkness closed around her. Something prodded her side, and her eyes fluttered open to see Leafpaw, the ThunderClan medicine cat’s apprentice, standing over her with one paw on her chest.

“You’re awake!” Leafpaw gasped in apparent relief, picking her paw back up. She raised her head to look around-- she was in her nest, which was now all over the place from her tossing and turning, in the apprentices’ den.

“Sorrelpaw, you dumb furball,” the brown tabby scolded, cuffing her over the ears with one white forepaw. “I’m pretty sure every cat in the Clan heard the racket you’re making in here. Get up! Don’t you remember what today is?”

Sorrelpaw paused. “Sorry, Leafpaw. I was just dreaming.” She turned to lick at her patchy fur, which was covered in moss, twigs, and knots.

“Dreaming,” a black tom scoffed from the other side of the den. “Can you keep your dreaming a little _quieter?_ Some of us are trying to get some sleep in here. Honestly, you’re almost as bad as Squirrelpaw.”

“Oh, shut up, Spiderpaw,” Sorrelpaw grumbled, rolling her eyes and getting to her paws. She couldn’t help but pay close attention to the disrespectful tone he was using, directed to his Clanmate and his leader’s daughter, Squirrelpaw. “I’m glad I won’t have to deal with you anymore since today is--”

_My ceremony! That’s right!_ Bouncing up suddenly, she grinned at Leafpaw, who was smiling back. She raced out of the den, tail waving merrily. The ominous message from last night’s dream was fading to the back of her mind. She could still not understand or believe that StarClan had chosen _her_ of all cats.

As soon as she exited the den, she could hear a mrrow of amusement from her right.

“You've certainly got a lot of energy today, Sorrelpaw,” her mentor, Sandstorm, mewed. “How about you burn it off by taking some fresh-kill to Ferncloud? I've heard her kits came yesterday. Two she-kits and a tom.”

“Okay, Sandstorm,” she chirped, skipping to the fresh-kill pile. Plucking out a fresh vole, she padded over to the nursery, which was hidden in the depths of a bramble thicket near the center of the camp, and poked her head inside.

The sight of three wriggling kits at their mother’s belly made her heart melt. “Hello, Ferncloud,” she greeted, dropping the prey by the queen’s paws. “I’ve brought something for you.”

“Why, thank you, Sorrelpaw,” the queen purred, smiling softly up at her. The apprentice’s gaze was fixed on the kits. Seeming to pick up on this, she meowed, “They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Sorrelpaw agreed with a nod. “Have you named them yet?”

“Not yet,” Ferncloud sighed, shaking her head slightly. “But you can make sure to come back later, when I have. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”

“Okay!” she squeaked, turning and walking out of the den. Outside, the sky was bright, and the ground was warmed by the sun. Glancing over by her den, she saw her denmates Spiderpaw and his brother Shrewpaw sharing tongues. Happy to join them, she stomped over and stretched out on the ground to warm her fur.

She was about to close her eyes contentedly when she noticed a dark tabby shape at the edge of her vision. Perking up immediately, she sprang to her paws and bounded across the clearing to him.

“It’s today!” she announced eagerly, unable to stay still. Brambleclaw was evidently confused.

He blinked. “What is?”

“My warrior ceremony!” Humming gleefully, Sorrelpaw tackled the slightly older warrior, bowling him over. They wrestled for a bit together on the dusty ground, just like they used to when they shared a den in the nursery.

She battered at his belly with her hind paws, careful to keep her claws sheathed. Sorrelpaw knew that she would eventually become the strongest and most dangerous warrior out there. Everyone would respect her then!

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Brambleclaw chuckled, reaching with his paw to cuff her ears much like Leafpaw had. He staggered to his paws and licked at his chest. “If you’re going to be a warrior, you’re going to have to stop behaving like a kit.”

Flicking an ear at him, she meowed indignantly, “A kit? Me?” She sat down in front of him, her fur sticking out and covered in dust. “Never! I’ve waited a long time for this, Brambleclaw.”

“I know. You deserve it.”

The apprentice had ventured too close to the Thunderpath during newleaf while chasing a squirrel. A Twoleg monster had struck a blow on her shoulder, making it so that she had to stay in Cinderpelt’s den for several long, painful moons. While she was being cared for by the medicine cat, her brothers, Sootfur and Rainwhisker, had already been given their warrior names. Sorrelpaw had been determined to follow them the moment Cinderpelt declared her fit enough to begin training again. She had worked her hardest with Sandstorm until her shoulder was as good as new. The young she-cat had also never been particularly annoyed with having to train for a few moons longer than her littermates.

“I’ve just taken fresh-kill to Ferncloud,” she meowed to Brambleclaw. “Her kits are beautiful! Have you seen them yet?”

“No, not yet,” Brambleclaw replied. Sorrelpaw huffed, then nudged him closer to the nursery.

“Go now,” she urged him. “You’ve just enough time before we hunt.” She jumped back up and danced a few steps sideways. All that energy had to go _somewhere_.

Sorrelpaw watched Brambleclaw set off for the nursery with a wide grin. Turning back around, she headed towards where Sandstorm had been sitting and laid herself beside the older cat. She bent down to groom her incredibly messy pelt, then stopped when she saw Brambleclaw nearing them, Squirrelpaw close behind.

“Hunting,” Brambleclaw explained, dipping his head.

Squirrelpaw yawned and stretched when the two reached them. “Well,” she mewed, “where shall we go?”

“I thought Sunningrocks,” the brown tabby warrior began. “Then we can--”

“Sunningrocks?” Squirrelpaw interrupted, her eyes stretching wide in disbelief. Sorrelpaw tipped her head to one side. What was wrong with Sunningrocks? “Are you mouse-brained? On a day as hot as this, all the prey will be hiding down cracks. We won’t catch so much as a whisker.”

“It’s still early,” Brambleclaw replied crossly. “The prey will be out for a while yet.”

Squirrelpaw let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly, Brambleclaw, you always think you’re better than anyone else.” Sorrelpaw rolled her eyes. Squirrelpaw could be a little… irritable.

“Well, I _am_ a warrior,” Brambleclaw pointed out. The older apprentice winced. That was definitely not a good thing to say, especially to Squirrelpaw.

The dark ginger she-cat bowed her head in deep and exaggerated respect. “Yes, O Great Warrior,” she meowed. “I shall do exactly as you say. And when we come back empty-pawed, maybe you’ll admit that I’m right.”

“Well, then,” Brambleclaw mewed, “if you’re so clever, where do you think we should hunt?”

“Up toward Fourtrees, by the stream,” Squirrelpaw replied promptly. “That’s a much better place.”

Sorrelpaw looked up towards her mentor, who was frowning but still nodded. She could tell that Brambleclaw was clearly annoyed, since she figured that Squirrelpaw might be right. The stream ran cool and deep through most seasons, and there were thick clumps of reeds where prey could hide. Brambleclaw hesitated, clearly unsure.

“Squirrelpaw.” A sigh sounded from Sorrelpaw’s right; Sandstorm had begun berating Squirrelpaw. “Stop ruffling Brambleclaw’s fur. You chatter as much as a nest of jackdaws.” Her annoyed green gaze turned on Brambleclaw and she added, “And you’re just as bad. The pair of you are always squabbling; you can’t be trusted to hunt together if you can’t even get out of the clearing without scaring away half the prey between here and Fourtrees.”

“Sorry,” Brambleclaw muttered. Sorrelpaw could feel the heat coming off of his pelt even from where she was standing.

“You’re a warrior, you should know better,” Sandstorm reprimanded. “Go and ask Cloudtail if you can hunt with him. And as for you,” she meowed to her daughter, “you can come and hunt with me and Sorrelpaw. Brackenfur won’t mind. And you’ll do as you’re told, or I’ll know the reason why.”

Without looking back, she headed straight for the gorse tunnel that led out of the camp. Sorrelpaw raced after her. Squirrelpaw stood still for a moment, a sulky look in her green eyes, and scuffed the ground with her forepaws. With another sigh, Sorrelpaw padded back up to her, giving her a friendly nudge.

“Come on,” she encouraged, trying to look from a more positive angle. “This is my last hunt as an apprentice. Let’s make it a good one.”

Reluctantly, Squirrelpaw nodded, and the two cats set off together after Sandstorm. Sorrelpaw caught Squirrelpaw while she was glaring at Brambleclaw while passing him.

Just as she was leaving, Sorrelpaw swept a glance over her Clanmates. They looked fairly peaceful, with their sleek fur and well-fed frames. Whitestorm’s message came back to echo in her mind. Could it be true that some sort of trouble was coming upon the forest? Sorrelpaw felt her fur prickle in foreboding. She decided that she would not tell any cat about her dream-- not yet, anyway. That seemed like the only way she could convince herself that it meant nothing, and that there was no prophecy coming to disrupt life in the forest as they knew it. 

* * *

Red sunlight trickled into the clearing like blood, cutting shadows like gashes from battle wounds into the clearing. Sorrelpaw caught herself right before her jaws split into a yawn, careful not to drop the squirrel that she had been dragging by its tail. She'd spent the whole way back from the patrol fretting about her naming ceremony when Squirrelpaw tossed the fresh-kill at her and told her to carry it.

She placed the catch atop the pile of prey and soon enough, every cat in the Clan had been fed with plenty left over for tomorrow. Greenleaf had treated ThunderClan well, and while the heat got under many cats’ fur, there were always the streams along the Clan's border that provided water.

Sitting back, Sorrelpaw began licking her fur down, occasionally leaning over to take a bite of mouse as Squirrelpaw went on and on to the other apprentices about this vole that she had _just barely_ been able to catch. The whole story was told in an overly dramatic fashion, especially for the size of the vole in question, which looked small enough even in greenleaf to seem like a mere vole kit.

Once her whole pelt was smoothed down and cool, Sorrelpaw waited, trembling in excitement, by the apprentices’ den, watching as all the other cats clustered together below the Highrock, which Firestar was standing at the base of. The tortoiseshell she-cat could see the leader exchanging a few brief words with Graystripe as well as the medicine cat and her apprentice, whose head was tipped to one side as she listened in on what the higher-ranked cats were saying. Sorrelpaw herself was too far away to hear, but she could see Leafpaw lock eyes with her for a moment and flicking an ear to acknowledge her before turning her attention back to her mentor's conversation.

Picking out particular cats in the crowd, she looked over who was close to who. Graystripe, looking as proud as if he were her father, was by Cinderpelt and Leafpaw, being the deputy. Brambleclaw was sitting near Ashfur and Ferncloud, who had both been his denmates as well as her at one point. Squirrelpaw was positioned a couple of fox-lengths away from them. Sandstorm was a bit ahead of Sorrelpaw, waiting for Firestar to call out for the ceremony to truly begin.

Finally, the flame-colored leader sprang up to the highest point in camp, looking down on the Clan as the matching light from the sun dyed the ground the same hue as his fur. Having finished his talk with the deputy, he rang, “Cats of ThunderClan!” Immediately, every cat's attention was pointed at him. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”

While the majority of the Clan was already seated beneath Firestar's paws, there were still a few members who had yet to trickle out of their dens and into the clearing. Once she was sure everyone had made it, Sorrelpaw made her way up, Sandstorm close by her side. The apprentice's shoulder ached from thinking about her mentor's reaction to finding the wounded warrior-in-training on the Thunderpath, but she brushed it away as she hopped up to the front of the Clan gathering.

The ginger tom that was the leader copied the motion, climbing back down from the Highrock to meet the pair. “Sandstorm,” he began, using the words that, as Sorrelpaw had learned from the elders, had been passed down through generations, “are you satisfied that this apprentice is ready to become a warrior of ThunderClan?”

Sorrelpaw's tail twitched, barely able to keep still from how eager she was. Her mentor, pressing her own tail on the young she-cat's flank to keep her in line, replied, “She will be a warrior the Clan can be proud of.”

_I sure hope so,_ the mottled she-cat wailed internally, rooting her claws into the earth to stop herself from jumping up. 

Firestar nodded, raising his eyes to meet the twinkling of the first warriors in Silverpelt were beginning to wink into view. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice.” The Clan was hushed as his voice echoed in the minds of every cat. “She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in turn.” Sorrelpaw's whole body quivered as his emerald green gaze turned to her. “Sorrelpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

This was the moment. Everything Sorrelpaw had worked for was depending on this. The young cat lifted her chin and answered with a clear, unwavering voice, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name.” Her ears pricked expectantly. What would it be? “Sorrelpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Sorreltail. StarClan honors your courage and your patience, and we welcome you as a full member of ThunderClan.”

Sorreltail. The new name reverberated through her mind, her own voice louder than her brothers and Clanmates calling it to her. She barely noticed when Firestar placed his muzzle atop her head, only knowing by moons of practice to reach forward and lick his shoulder respectfully before stepping back.

Once the noise had died down, Firestar told her, “Sorreltail, according to tradition you must keep vigil in silence tonight, and watch over the camp.”

A night all by herself? That would be fine. She could handle it, and it would certainly help to get away from Spiderpaw's snoring. Her whiskers twitched when Cloudtail spoke up.

“While the rest of us get a good night's sleep,” the fluffy white tom had cut in, earning a sharp warning glance from the leader.

Otherwise, the ginger tom said nothing as the crowd dispersed to allow Sorreltail to step up to her spot in the center of the clearing. Sitting down with her tail curled around her paws, fixing her gaze on the darkening sky, where more and more light from Silverpelt became visible.

Behind her, she could hear Firestar speaking to Brambleclaw behind her, though she pushed that to the back of her mind as Leafpaw approached, tail curled upwards in greeting.

“Congratulations, Sorreltail,” the medicine apprentice purred, joining the new warrior by sitting down to where their pelts touched. Squirrelpaw was on the other side of the fresh-kill pile, which was behind where the two were conversing. “You've really earned this, y'know.”

She agreed with the dip of her head. The tortoiseshell opened her mouth to speak, then quickly shut it. _I hope I'm not being tested right now._

The two sat awkwardly in what would've been a peaceful moment of quiet. “Y-y'know, the vigil doesn't actually start until your former mentor tells you,” Leafpaw pointed out, amber eyes glimmering.

Sorreltail nodded, tail twitching. _I don't want to risk anything on the big night._

“Oh. I get it.” The apprentice's ear flicked, much like how she had acknowledged the warrior during the ceremony. “Brambleclaw was the same way. Scared out of his fur.”

The warrior turned her head back to the tabby. Using her tail, she tapped the other's ear with a huff. _I'm not scared._

“I know, I know,” the paler of the two chuckled. The medicine apprentice looked up to where Sorreltail had been staring the moment before. “If only Willowpelt and Whitestorm were here to see you… I imagine they're very proud.”

Sorreltail flinched at the mention of her father's name. She'd been trying to cast the thought of her dream to the side, but Leafpaw's words only caused the worry she'd had about the supposed prophecy to grow. Licking at her paws, she murmured, “You should go to bed. Tomorrow's my first day as a warrior, and I want you to be there to experience it with me.”

Leafpaw laughed, a soft sound, as she ducked away from Sorreltail. “Okay, okay. Good luck, Sorreltail.”

The younger she-cat padded away, leaving the warrior alone with her thoughts. She did actually wish her parents were there as Leafpaw had said. Willowpelt, her mother, had been killed by a badger the prior leaf-bare, when Sorreltail and her brothers, Rainwhisker and Sootfur, were still apprentices, and Whitestorm even further back during the battle with BloodClan, when they were kits in the nursery. If the both of them were still alive, she'd know that her odd dream from last night was probably just caused by eating too much prey before settling down in her nest.

If the both of them were still alive, she'd be able to rest easy knowing that the Clans weren't facing imminent destruction.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onewhisker gets into a bit of trouble by the river. Word spreads fast in WindClan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ack its been so LONG 
> 
> this chapter is really rushed, i sorta just wanted to get it Out so that it could just be there so um. here it is lol
> 
> the long awaited CHAPTER THREE
> 
> i think this is the furthest ive gotten on any story

The sun had yet to rise over the moors when Onewhisker set out with the dawn patrol. In front of him, WindClan deputy Mudclaw and his apprentice Crowpaw led the way, three sets of paws trodding on unsettlingly prickly grass, every step they took making a little crunch as the blades were snapped and pressed to the ground. Beyond the two cats ahead, he could see specks of gold freckling the trees on RiverClan’s territory; leaf-fall would be coming soon. While dawn was on its way, there had been no sign of the usual morning dew sprinkling the grass for nearly half a moon. Water was scarce in the territory, and prey was running low as rabbits no longer wanted to nibble on the dry, brittle heather.

The brown tabby held two balls of moss with him as they walked, one wrapped in his jaws and one tucked underneath his chin. Crowpaw was begrudgingly carrying another bunch of parched bundles. Mudclaw didn’t carry anything himself, instead choosing to call back orders to the pitifully small patrol.

“We’re about halfway to the gorge,” the deputy estimated, peering over the hill. Further off, nearer to camp, the gurgling and bubbling of the water would be softer to the ears. With both camp and the gorge an equal distance, the sound was more like a faded gust, or the sound of blood pumping in your ears when you chased prey. Gaze drifting, he muttered, “We can see if we can hunt on our way back. With any luck, we’ll get more than a scrawny vole like last time.” 

Onewhisker’s whiskers trembled; while he would, in fact, like to hunt, he knew that he and the apprentice didn’t have much of a say in the matter. Mudclaw had always been strict, and him being appointed deputy certainly hadn't helped. It hadn't helped the majority of WindClan, at least, although it did give a boost to the dark tom's… self-confidence. While Onewhisker admitted that he, too, had built up a bit of an ego, Mudclaw had been driving the whole Clan insane for moons.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Mudclaw once again rambling off with his gravelly voice. "You know, Outlook Rock isn't too far off. We can stop over there when we're done, too. It'll be good training experience for Crowpaw. And maybe you could hop on up there and take a look around, too, Onewhisker. Our Clan as a whole has been slacking in our duties. It would be useful to get everyone more active and patrolling. I wonder if Tallstar would let me organize training sessions for some of the warriors…"

By the time the younger warrior had tuned him out, his nose began twitching. Onewhisker halted in his place. Through the moss, he scented fresh prey. Scampering up to Mudclaw, he pried the moss from between his teeth. “Can we hunt  _ now _ ?” he panted, coughing out the remaining scraps of moss that had been clawed off the bridge and the large boulders scattered across WindClan territory. Mudclaw gave a fierce glare. Perhaps he wasn't too happy about Onewhisker interrupting him. Nevertheless, he paused in his ranting to give Onewhisker a chance to speak, which he gladly took. “I smell rabbit nearby. It’d be nice to be able to restock the fresh-kill pile.”

Mudclaw looked as though he was about to protest, but instead, he just let out a sigh and nodded, flicking his tail dismissively. “Fine. Crowpaw, carry Onewhisker’s moss while he chases whatever he’s found.”

The gray tom groaned, spitting out his own moss and clutched the bundles that Onewhisker had dropped on the ground. Onewhisker swore he could hear a muffled “Why do I get all the hard work?” from the dark apprentice, but thought nothing of it as he bolted after his prey without another word.

His paws pounded on the earth as he raced toward the rabbit. "Not the best start," he hissed to himself, seeing the rabbit jump from where it was chewing on a heather stem. The footsteps echoed through his body, sending jolts of energy up his tall legs and down to his swishing tail. The brown warrior’s pads felt like claws had pierced through them, but he kept running, his leaps broad and his determination strong. The space between him and the rabbit grew smaller and smaller until it veered to the left, forcing him to skid to a stop and spin around to chase after it. After a few more bounds, it froze with a squeak, allowing Onewhisker to finally pounce and bite down into its throat.

Almost instantly, he realized why the rabbit had stopped. His paws were sliding on dank, rough soil, nearly mud. Half of his body was hanging over the edge, giving him a rather unpleasant view of the gorge below.

Behind him, he heard Mudclaw shout his name. “Onewhisker!” the deputy called up to him, padding up with heavy pawsteps that sounded like he was stomping on the dried grass. “What were you thinking?” hissed the darker mottled tom. “You could have fallen in! Then we would have both no rabbit and one less warrior. We can’t afford to lose anyone else this season.”

Letting the fresh-kill drop onto the damp ground, Onewhisker mumbled half-heartedly, "Sorry, Mudclaw.” For a brief moment he felt once again like he was a young apprentice being scolded by his mentor, but instead of grunting something about sorry filling no bellies or saving no lives Mudclaw merely scoffed and turned around. 

“At least we’re here now,” huffed the darker brown cat. “Now get to soaking that moss. We don’t have all moon.” 

Crowpaw batted the two balls of moss over to Onewhisker, who glanced over to the rushing water guiltily. The drop was rather steep and quite far. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to reach the river without falling in, but he gulped down this anxiety and snatched up a bundle of moss between his teeth. If he had any sense he’d be able to keep himself from falling.

Straightening his spine, he inched closer to where the ground sloped sharply down. He could hear the brushing of something against the ground and assumed Mudclaw was hauling the rabbit away from his clumsy paws. Onewhisker dug his claws into the dirt, leaning forward over the fiercely splashing water. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes to avoid the spray.

Shutting his eyes seemed to be the wrong move, however, as he soon felt his paws beginning to slide on the soft ground. In a frenzied panic, Onewhisker dropped the clump of moss into the water. Now disoriented by a lack of weight pulling him down, his hind paws began scrabbling for a hold on the bank. His front claws were stretched out in front of him as though he were reaching for the moss ball. Was this what RiverClan felt like when they fished? A nearly-falling warrior dangling precariously over the edge of what was surely a great and perilous drop wasn't exactly what he'd expected when he pictured the elegant RiverClan. Surely the cats living in the wetlands were more skilled than he was. 

In the end, his clawhold didn't last long. Onewhisker slid into the rushing water, thrashing and yowling and coughing. The water, ice-cold and dragging on his short fur, swept over him, carrying the rather disoriented WindClan cat downstream. It slammed him into rocks and his flanks scraped against the riverbed.

Water flooded his nose and ears, pounding harder than his blood during the chase. Nearly completely submerged, he opened his mouth only to be barraged by another blast of frigid water. Faster than the furious current, the memories of the previous night rushed into his waterlogged head.

_ I can't die yet! _ he pleaded.  _ I have a prophecy to fulfill! _

Right-- he'd had a strange dream the night before of a circle of heather bathed in moonlight. In the center of the circle was Gorsepaw, Onewhisker's deceased apprentice, who'd been torn apart by Tigerstar while all his wretched warriors sat around them and watched. The thought would make him gag if he wasn't already almost drowning. Gorsepaw had told him about a supposed  _ great danger. _ Apparently he was supposed to meet with some other cats at the new moon and listen to the moon rise or something. In the beginning, he'd thought that one of the other three cats would be Crowpaw. The young tom had been rather on edge lately. Later, though, he'd decided that perhaps Crowpaw was just always like that.

After being battered by another pile of sharp pebbles, Onewhisker decided that it certainly wasn't the time to dwell on odd dreams that may not even have been real. He flailed around in the damp darkness, resigned to his fate until he felt a force pressing against his pelt, one physical and alive and not formed of water and fish blood dragging him from the center of the raging river and to the very edge. It hauled him up over the bank, no doubt coating his fur in mud and grime. Teeth sunk into his scruff and he was slowly but surely towed onto dry grass. When he had finished blinking the water and dirt out of his eyes, he came nose-to-nose with Crowpaw and his familiar grumpy pout.

He opened his mouth to blurt a complaint before he started coughing and hacking, now sitting himself up and hanging his head in front of him as the disgusting water forced itself back up his throat. Onewhisker wheezed, convulsing, each time spitting out a bit more water. When he figured he was finally finished, he sucked in a breath of fresh, familiar valley air. “Okay,” he panted. Mudclaw had joined them, casting a disapproving glare upon the lower-ranked warrior. “I think I’m good. We’re good. Everything’s good.”

The deputy rolled his eyes, flicking his paw. A few tiny scraps of wet moss landed beneath his feet. “You soaked the moss, alright,” he growled. “You managed to do so well that this was all you’ll be bringing back. Now that you’re sufficiently hydrated, though, I’m certain you’re alright with that.”

Crowpaw snorted, pawing at his own moss ball. He’d managed to keep it relatively intact, and it was dripping with water, which pooled on the packed dirt and spindly grass. “Maybe we’ll let Morningflower lick the water off your fur. At least then you’d be useful.”

Onewhisker glared at Crowpaw, lifting his scraps of moss with one cautious claw. “I caught that rabbit, didn’t I?” he protested. The moss flopped onto the ground unceremoniously. Mudclaw was staring at the mentioned rabbit, with its partially mud-soaked fur. “That’s just as useful. It doesn’t matter if I let the moss go.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get back to camp,” Mudclaw grumbled, turning and lifting the rabbit by its ears.

Right. Whatever. Onewhisker’s stomach would be able to rest easier at camp anyway.

 

* * *

When Onewhisker and his patrol made it back to camp, he was greeted with the sight of his sister waiting with a skinny vole held by the tail between her teeth. “Um, hi, Ashfoot,” he meowed, flicking his tail. Mudclaw and Crowpaw shoved past him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Her eyes were wide with shock at Onewhisker’s disheveled appearance, but instead of saying anything, she led him to an empty spot by an empty den and laid down. Unsure of what else to do, he did the same. She dropped the vole and scanned him.

“I see you got into a bit of trouble,” she noted, pushing the fresh-kill toward him with a paw. “Weren’t you on the water gathering patrol? I think you brought a bit too much.”

He sniffed the vole, hesitant to eat it. “I-I just slipped,” he stammered, finding the grass particularly interesting at that moment. “It could have happened to any cat.”

“You’re dripping wet,” Ashfoot observed, nudging the vole once more. “You should really be more careful. The gorge is very dangerous. StarClan knows what could have happened to you if you didn’t make it out.”

Onewhisker pushed down the urge to reply that maybe StarClan  _ didn’t _ know what would happen and instead took a bite of the offered fresh-kill. “It’s not like we had anywhere else to go for water,” he pointed out once his portion was down. “We don’t exactly have a bunch of rivers snaking through our territory like RiverClan does. There was nothing else we could do.”

She blinked serenely. With her help, Onewhisker finished the vole and the two of them stood. “Get yourself checked out by Barkface,” Ashfoot suggested as she departed, her tail-tip brushing his cheek. “You might catch a cold from that fall.”

_ That’s not a bad idea, _ Onewhisker thought, shaking out his still-waterlogged pelt. His underside was now partially slicked by mud.  _ I could tell Barkface about my dream. He might be one of the other three cats. _

With shivering pawsteps, the warrior managed to make it to the medicine den where Barkface was sitting. Onewhisker noticed that he appeared to be waiting almost expectantly, with a straight posture, calmly perked ears and a short tail loosely curled by his flank.

“You knew I was coming,” the brown warrior guessed. Barkface nodded. “How?”

“The wind carries plenty of sound,” Barkface answered, and Onewhisker immediately cursed himself for asking. “Mudclaw was loud. It was hard to not overhear him telling Tallstar what happened. Hearing your sister tell you off was even easier.”

It was a much simpler explanation that the beginning, at least. Onewhisker sighed, dejected. He shifted his gaze to the walls of the den while he addressed the medicine cat. “I was told that I should come here to be checked for a cold,” he stated bluntly. “Because, as you may have heard, I fell into the gorge.” A droplet of water fell from his chin for emphasis.

Barkface chuckled, his voice low and deep. “I hadn’t a clue. Here, I’ve got something.” He dragged a pile of small, soft-looking leaves forward. Onewhisker eyed them curiously. “Feverfew,” Barkface explained. “It’s not much, but if you do have a chill this should work fine. It might ease some of the pain, too. Just take it easy. It’s not every day you fall into a ditch.”

He did have to admit that he had quite the headache, though he wasn’t sure if it were from his prophecy pondering or from being smashed around the gorge as though he were being swatted by a monster. “Thanks.” Onewhisker let out a long breath of relief and began lapping up the bitter leaves. His muzzle screwed up; he would never get used to the herb taste.

“Just keep yourself dry,” the medicine cat advised, looking amused by Onewhisker’s misfortune. “Take a second to groom for a bit. It should help. You’re still dripping.”

“I’ve noticed,” Onewhisker groaned, taking this as his cue to leave. He exited the den, only realizing when he was halfway across camp that he’d forgotten to ask Barkface about the dream.

_ He wouldn’t like me coming back so soon, _ the warrior figured.  _ I’ll visit Morningflower instead. _

His older sister, Morningflower, had retired to the elders’ den not long ago. Thinking about her reminded him of his dream, where her son, Gorsepaw had appeared to him. He shook away the thoughts with a huff and a swish of his tail.

He slipped into his sister’s den, where she was relaxing with the rabbit that Onewhisker had caught not long ago. “It’s good to see you, Morningflower,” he purred. She looked up to meet his gaze, a contented look upon her face.

“And the same to you, Onewhisker,” she replied warmly. “It would be more of a pleasure if you didn’t look such a mess, though. Come here!”

Shocked, he complied, lying down beside her. She began lapping gently at the back of his head. The soothing strokes of her tongue reminded Onewhisker of when he was in the nursery.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Morningflower encouraged. Her breath stirred the fur on Onewhisker’s neck.

Onewhisker sank into her touch. He already felt far calmer than he had during the incident, but he couldn’t help but share. “I fell into the gorge,” he told her with a sigh.

She laughed quietly. “Oh, I think the whole Clan can see that. I imagine you stirred up quite a fuss. Whitetail has been pacing since you got back.”

“Really?” The younger warrior tried looking out through the den’s entrance, but saw nothing other than Tallstar and Mudclaw emerging from behind the Tallrock.

“Yes, she looked quite worried.” Morningflower’s grooming resumed. “I know there’s something else bothering you.”

He fidgeted in his spot. One of his ears twitched in discomfort. “I’m alright, Morningflower...” Onewhisker paused, unsure. “I have been having some, er, strange dreams lately, though. But that’s all, really.”

She licked his head another time. “It isn’t. You’re worried about the drought.”

Onewhisker froze. "Ah. Well, yes." _Not for the reasons you might think,_ he told himself silently. If there really was a great danger coming, Onewhisker was sure the drought would be part of it. "I don't want to see anyone hurt because of it. And when it finally rains again, we'll have to retreat to a badger's nest. That could be dangerous- we don't know if a badger will be hiding from the heat."

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Morningflower assured him, her voice a soft croak. “You’d best get going, it looks like Tallstar wants to see you, and I shouldn’t keep you too long.”

Onewhisker dipped his head to her and padded off. More than anything, he worried about the prophecy. If the Clans truly were doomed as his dream had told him, he couldn't be sure what the message from midnight would help him do or whether the cats he was meant to meet would be able to save the Clans.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four Clans gather. Mothwing makes a friend. Smokepaw and Sorreltail share their concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo i managed to make it in what? a month and a half? i think thats a new record ;aldskfjds;lkfj anyway! i really liked writing this chapter, i feel like its a little fast paced but i hope yall like it too!
> 
> from where i am right now im reading back the prologue and the first chapter and im like w oah yikes that is Garbage but its a little late to change it now and i dont want to confuse all of yall so here u go have a chapter

_Mothwing’s tail curled gently around_ her paws. Dying sunlight illuminated the RiverClan camp with warm orange. The sky was growing dark, but the heat was intense, pressing onto her pelt, only alleviated by the occasional soft breeze drifting into the camp. The air was thick and humid, but the bare sky showed no signs of rain in the near future. 

It was the night of the Gathering. RiverClan was tense. Not long ago, Mothwing had expressed her interest in training under Mudfur, much to the protest of her Clanmates. Even more recently, Leopardstar had gathered her, Hawkfrost, and several of the senior warriors to discuss what was going to be announced at the Gathering.

Of course, it was ridiculous to worry. Mothwing had proven herself a good warrior. (She glanced toward the diminishing fresh-kill pile.) And Mudfur had already made it known that he would only train her after being given a sign from StarClan. She wasn’t sure why she was so concerned.

Mothwing sighed and settled down by a clump of reeds. Surely she wouldn’t be chosen to go to the Gathering, not with Leopardstar’s announcement. So when she saw a cat approaching through half-lidded eyes, she shot up in surprise.

“Hawkfrost,” she greeted, blinking slowly at him.

“Sister,” he returned, dropping a fish at her paws. “Have you eaten? We’ll be leaving soon.”

She eyed the fresh-kill. A rumble in her belly reminded her of her hunger. The drought had not been kind to RiverClan. Prey was scarce, and there were several spots in the river where there was nothing left but mud and shallow pools of water. “We?” she asked, nudging the prey back to Hawkfrost. “I’m not going, am I?”

“Mistyfoot told me to fetch you,” replied Hawkfrost, his tail-tip twitching toward where the rest of the Clan was crowding around the deputy. “It’s almost dark, and the moon’s rising. Hurry, or the Gathering will be over before we arrive.”

Mothwing took a begrudging bite out of the fresh-kill. It was cool and sweet, a refreshing break from the damp air. In a few moments, she was scraping wet earth over fish bones. 

“If Mistyfoot insists, I suppose I’ll have to.” She got to her feet. Cats were already filtering out of the camp. Brushing flanks with Hawkfrost, she followed after them.

* * *

Mistyfoot led RiverClan along the Twoleg path to Fourtrees, their way lit by the full moon hanging halfway up in the sky. The Gathering was a time of peace between the four Clans. Mothwing prayed this would hold true. She had never attended a Gathering, and the most interaction she’d had from cats in the other Clans was crossing paths with WindClan cats on border patrol. Her brother’s pelt pressed against her own; it was his first Gathering, too.

From her spot among her Clan, the four great oaks towered above Mothwing. A single yellowed leaf drifted onto the ground in front of Hawkfrost’s paws. It crunched under his foot, and his claws tore it to pieces.

WindClan and ShadowClan were already present; when Mothwing burst through the shrubs, she spotted a hulking white tom among the sharp tang of ShadowClan. Their leader, Blackstar, she realized. Another cat was coiled atop the Great Rock, with large ears, a sleek pelt, and a thin tail-- likely Tallstar of WindClan.

Leopardstar scaled the Great Rock, joining Tallstar at the top. She observed the Clans with piercing eyes. 

WindClan didn't seem to be faring well, Mothwing noticed. Their eyes were dull and their pelts seemed to sink in at their sides. Greenleaf had been harsh to them as well, it seemed. There was one warrior that she recognized, though: a brown tom with a glossier pelt from the rest, shiny and accented by the occasional drip of water from the tip of his ear. She'd been wandering near the WindClan border by the gorge earlier that day when she saw him fell in, and she had watched as his Clanmates pulled him to safety.

Cats were already absently chattering, filling Fourtrees with ambient noise. Mothwing glanced over at her brother. He was busying himself already, making conversation with Blackclaw.

_It couldn't hurt to go talk to him,_ Mothwing told herself. She shook out her pelt. _It's a Gathering, after all, and my first one, too. A good first impression will be important when I become a medicine cat._

By the time she made it over, ThunderClan was spilling into the hollow, led by a ginger tom. She saw them disperse into the other Clans, integrating easily like a pebble sinking to the bottom of the river.

Mothwing pulled her eyes away from the cats flowing smoothly from the slope and turned her gaze to the WindClan tom. “Hello,” she greeted, not sure what else to say. “Can I sit here?”

He shifted awkwardly on his paws, but nodded and motioned with his tail for her to sit down. She took the spot graciously.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” he meowed, his eyes focused somewhere off in the distance. “I’m Onewhisker. Is this your first Gathering?”

“It is,” she admitted, curling her tail tightly against her side. “My name’s Mothwing. I’m from RiverClan. It’s nice to meet you, Onewhisker.”

The WindClan tom only seemed to grow more uncomfortable at her words, so she decided to change the topic. “You’ve been to Gatherings before? Do you know anyone here?”

Onewhisker scanned the clearing. The tip of his tail flicked toward where a group of apprentices were clustering together. “Sorrelpaw of ThunderClan is over there,” he told her. “She’s probably the most popular cat here. Up on the Great Rock is Tallstar and Firestar. At the bottom is Russetfur, Mudclaw, and his apprentice Crowpaw.”

Mothwing’s head turned back and forth as she tried to spot all of these cats. “Wow,” she breathed, astounded at how many cats there were that she still couldn’t put names to. She looked around for her own Clanmates. Feathertail, Stormfur, and Mistyfoot were sitting by a gray tom and a brown ThunderClan apprentice. Hawkfrost and Blackclaw were still on the other side of the hollow. She could’ve sworn that she saw Hawkfrost again among the ThunderClan cats, but shook it off.

She chose to share her first sighting. “I see Mistyfoot over there,” Mothwing responded after a pause, flicking an ear in their direction. “I don’t recognize the two others, though. Do you know them?”

“That’s Graystripe, ThunderClan’s deputy. The she-cat is Leafpaw. She’s Cinderpelt’s apprentice.”

_Leafpaw._ She repeated the name in her mind. The little apprentice who had stripes that crawled across her back like vines or drooping willow branches… She was a medicine cat’s apprentice? Mothwing felt her paws buzzing in excitement. _Maybe she could teach me a few things._

She had already exhausted all of her information on this topic, so she found it was time to switch to another one. “How are things in WindClan?” 

Onewhisker sighed. “They’re fine. We’re a little short on water, but they’re fine.”

“That explains why you fell in the river,” Mothwing found herself saying before she could stop.

He recoiled, and finally met her gaze. She shot up, her tail reaching to meet her mouth. “I’m sorry! Are you still upset about it?”

There was a brief silence before he answered, a look of confusion crossing his face. “No, it’s fine, I’m just… surprised that you saw. I didn’t think anyone but Mudclaw and Crowpaw was there.”

“Ah,” she murmured. _How is it that he wasn’t looking at me earlier, but now I’m avoiding him the same way?_ “I was just in the area and saw you looking resigned in the water… but then you started struggling again, and I was about to jump in and help when your Clanmate saved you.”

Onewhisker was quiet. He parted his jaws to speak again, but Leopardstar beat him to it. "Where is ShadowClan's leader?" she yelled from atop the Great Rock. Her glare swept across the Clans, passing over Onewhisker and Mothwing. "Blackstar, what are you waiting for?"

“Just coming,” the white tom called back, pushing through a group of cats near where Mistyfoot and Leafpaw were standing. He kicked off of the ground and landed on top of the Great Rock, teetering on his paws for a moment before steadying.

As soon as his claws scraped against stone, Leopardstar tossed her head back and yowled. Mothwing crept closer to Onewhisker. As the RiverClan leader’s meow decreased in volume, Mothwing could feel the hush fall over the hollow. Leopardstar righted herself, and the Gathering was quiet.

“Cats of all Clans, welcome.” The cat that Onewhisker had told her was Tallstar stepped to the front of the Great Rock to address the Clans. He looked far older than the other leaders; his sides were sunken in and, when she got a good look at it, the fur along his tail looked matted. “Who will speak first?”

“I will.” Firestar took the stage, and Mothwing’s breath hitched. Under the moonlight, his fiery red pelt turned a dazzling silver. His fur looked soft and well-groomed. His bright green eyes greeted the Clans warmly. His voice was smooth as he declared news of a badger at Snakerocks.

_Hopefully it won’t cross over into RiverClan territory,_ Mothwing thought, flexing her claws anxiously. She had never encountered a badger before, and despite being a warrior, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle one if she had to fight it.

“And we have a new warrior,” Firestar continued. Mothwing spotted the tortoiseshell she-cat among the ShadowClan apprentices perking up. “The ThunderClan apprentice Sorrelpaw has taken the warrior name of Sorreltail.”

“Sorreltail,” Onewhisker muttered from next to her, causing Mothwing to jump. She hadn’t noticed that she’d inched so close to him. “Good on her. She’s been working hard, she definitely deserves her name.” Similar murmurs rumbled through the hollow as Blackstar took Firestar’s place.

The ShadowClan leader looked over the Clans with an almost accusing sneer. “ShadowClan is strong and prey is plentiful. The heat of greenleaf has dried up part of the marshes on our territory, but we still have plenty of water to drink.”

His expression was like a claw scratch against Mothwing’s muzzle. Onewhisker puffed in disbelief next to her. “Likely story. ShadowClan wouldn’t admit it if they were drier than the grass on the moorlands.”

Mothwing looked over at him, turning away from the four leaders. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about that.”

“I don’t, but you already saw and Tallstar will say it anyway.”

She was about to ask what he meant, but when she looked up, Leopardstar was nodding for Tallstar to share next. She was too far away to judge his expression, but she saw him hesitate on three paws before addressing the Gathering.

“Blackstar spoke truly of the heat of greenleaf,” Tallstar began slowly. “It is many days since the forest saw rain, and the moorland streams on WindClan’s territory have been scorched away completely this last quarter-moon. We have no water at all.”

Onewhisker visibly tensed as a red she-cat spoke up. Mothwing recognized her as Russetfur from the brown tom’s brief explanation. “But the river borders your territory,” she called out to Tallstar.

“The river runs through a deep, sheer-sided gorge for the whole length of our border,” Tallstar told her. He looked much bigger than her, Tallstar on top of the Great Rock and Russetfur crouched in the shade at the bottom. “It’s too dangerous to go down there. Warriors have tried, and Onewhisker fell, though thank StarClan he was not hurt.” In the corner of Mothwing’s eye, the pale WindClan warrior ducked his head in embarrassment. “Our kits and elders cannot manage the climb. They are suffering badly, and I fear that some of the younger kits may die.”

“Can’t your kits and elders chew grass for the moisture?” a cat among the crowds piped up.

Tallstar shook his head, deflating. “The grass is parched. I tell you, there is no water anywhere on our territory.” His tail was twitching and his movements were shaky and hesitant as he turned to RiverClan’s leader. “Leopardstar, in the name of StarClan I must ask that you let us come into your territory to drink from the river there?”

Mothwing tipped her head, curious. This must have been what Onewhisker meant. Would Leopardstar even allow it? She saw the dappled leader weave through Firestar and Blackstar to stand beside Tallstar. 

“The water in the river is low,” she warned, and Mothwing gave a slight nod. Fishing had become more difficult, and with so much mud, prey wasn’t preserved for very long. “We have not escaped the effects of this drought in my Clan.”

“But there is far more than you need,” Tallstar insisted. His tone was desperate, leaning on pleading.

“That is true,” said Leopardstar. She came to the edge of the rock and swung her head around, searching for RiverClan cats in the clearing. “What do my warriors think? Mistyfoot?”

Mothwing could see Mistyfoot shifting to stand, but before the deputy could get a word out, Mothwing’s attention was drawn to where Blackclaw and Hawkfrost were standing. The black tom’s tail was lashing back and forth, and his ears were pressed flat. “We can’t trust them! Let WindClan set one paw over our border, and they’ll be taking our prey as well as our water.”

“That’s Blackclaw,” Mothwing told Onewhisker. “He’s a loyal warrior, but I agree with Leopardstar.”

Mistyfoot got to her paws and fixed him in a stare. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight, causing Mothwing to shudder. “You forget the times when RiverClan has needed help from the other Clans,” she meowed, miraculously calm. “If they had not helped us then, we would not be here today.” The deputy turned to Leopardstar and dipped her head. “I say we should allow this. We have water to spare.”

Fourtrees fell silent again. Leopardstar was still, her breaths shown by the moon shining on her dappled fur. “Very well, Tallstar,” she decided, and Mothwing released a breath. “Your Clan may enter our territory to drink from the river just below the Twoleg bridge. But you will come no farther, and you do not have leave to take prey.”

Tallstar bowed deeply. His long legs quivered, and Mothwing swore he was about to collapse as he replied, “Leopardstar, RiverClan has our thanks, from the oldest elder to the youngest kit. You have saved our Clan.”

“The drought will not last forever, and you will have water in your territory soon,” Leopardstar responded, eyes narrow. “We will discuss this again at the next Gathering.”

“Let us hope that StarClan have sent rain by then.” Tallstar retreated, allowing Leopardstar to speak.

Mothwing straightened her back as Leopardstar began to speak. Butterflies were fluttering in her belly, but remembering her warrior ceremony and the welcoming voices directed toward Sorreltail, she knew she didn't need to worry.

“Dawnflower has had her litter of kits. We are thankful that they are all healthy,” Leopardstar started. Volekit, Splashkit, and Stonekit, Mothwing recalled. “Stormfur and Blackclaw managed to kill off a group of rats that had been attracted by Twoleg rubbish left in the river.”

In the distance, she saw Hawkfrost righting himself as she had done. It was their turn.

“Some of you have met our apprentices Hawkpaw and Mothpaw. They are now warriors, and will be known as Hawkfrost and Mothwing,” the leader announced.

Dozens of sets of eyes dug into Mothwing’s pelt. As they had for Sorreltail, the Clans began murmuring in acceptance. “Congratulations,” Onewhisker mumbled softly. Across the clearing, among the thick group of RiverClan cats, though, she heard uncertain mews mixed with low growls.

Leopardstar took another step forward, silencing the Clans with a flick of her tail and challenging them with her glare. “Do I hear protests?” she spat. Her long teeth were bared, and the dappled she-cat seemed to tower over every other cat. “Very well. I will tell you everything, to stop rumors flying once and for all.”

_Oh, no. This is what I was afraid of._

“Six moons ago, at the beginning of newleaf, a rogue cat came to RiverClan, with her two surviving kits. Her name was Sasha, and the birth of her kits had weakened her so much that she needed help with hunting and caring for them. For a time she thought of joining the Clan, and we would have welcomed her as a warrior, but in the end she decided the warrior code was not the way of life for her. She left us, but her kits chose to stay.”

The uproar was instant. All four Clans broke out in caterwauls. Mothwing shrank against the noise. Against the hissing and protests, a single voice stood out. “Rogue cats? Taken into a Clan? Has RiverClan gone mad?”

Leopardstar stood her ground, her stony gaze unwavering. She didn’t move to silence the Clans this time. The yells smacked at Mothwing’s skull, and when they finally subsided, they left a ringing in her ears. 

“They are strong young cats and they have learned their warrior skills well,” she meowed when the cats had calmed down enough for her voice to be heard over the protest. “They have sworn to defend their Clan at the cost of their lives, just as all of you have sworn.” She glanced back and forth between the other three leaders. “Were some of ShadowClan’s warriors not rogues once? And if a kittypet can become Clan leader, why should rogues not be welcome as warriors?”

“True,” Firestar meowed. “I will be glad to see these cats fulfill their promise as loyal members of their Clan.”

He was a kittypet once? Mothwing thought through her building headache. The ThunderClan leader looked too regal up on the Great Rock to have ever been a kittypet.

Leopardstar nodded, satisfied by his words. She gave a brief pause to allow the Clans to settle.

“I don’t see why that’s so bad,” Onewhisker grunted. Mothwing turned to him and smiled. There were cats that would support her after all, it seemed.

“Mothwing has chosen a special place within our Clan,” Leopardstar continued. “Mudfur, our medicine cat, is growing old, and it is time for him to take an apprentice.”

If Leopardstar said anything else, Mothwing couldn’t hear it over the infuriated yowls of warriors from all four clans. The other three leaders clustered together and were speaking in hushed tones. Beside her, Onewhisker was shockingly quiet. Tallstar, likely still hesitant from asking to drink from the river, backed away, leaving Blackstar to respond. “I’m ready to admit that a rogue can learn enough of our code to become a warrior,” he rasped. Mothwing began to wonder if ShadowClan really did have enough water to drink after all. “But a medicine cat? What do rogues know of StarClan? Will StarClan even accept her?”

Mothwing swept her gaze around the clearing. Many cats were still staring at her, digging their eyes deep into her fur. She tried to pick out the other medicine cats-- there was Leafpaw, looking worried beyond measure. Beside Mudfur was a gray she-cat that she assumed to be Cinderpelt, a brown tom who was missing a tail, and a tabby tom that looked to be the brown tom’s apprentice. Had all of these cats felt the same way as her when they became medicine cats? Had they felt the same passion to heal, the same desire to help their Clans?

Warriors all around repeated Blackstar’s questions silently as Mudfur hauled himself to his paws. “Mothwing is a talented young cat,” he meowed. “But because she was born a rogue, I am waiting for a sign from StarClan that she is the right medicine cat for RiverClan. Once I have received that sign, I will take her to Mothermouth at the half-moon time. If I act without the blessing of StarClan, then you can all complain-- but not until then.” He flopped back down, whiskers twitching and ears swiveled at the sides of his head.

The other Clans seemed to accept this answer, as the clearing began to grow quiet once more. Mothwing was sure that this was the best solution. StarClan would send Mudfur a sign, everyone would know that StarClan approved of her becoming a medicine cat, and there would be no more protests.

With all of the announcements completed, Tallstar ended the meeting with a wave of his tail.

The Gathering was over, and the Clans had begun to disperse. Sorreltail said her goodbyes to the group of apprentices she’d been chatting with. Before she could leave, though, a set of teeth latched onto the tip of her tail and led her off to the side of the clearing.

The cat shoved her into the shade of a bush. Sorreltail blinked and looked down. A ShadowClan apprentice was staring back with bright orange eyes. His dark gray pelt was barely visible in the shadows.

“Smokepaw?” she asked, baffled. She batted a stray leaf off of her shoulder. “Couldn’t we have talked outside?”

Smokepaw glanced out through the branches to ensure no one was watching. “Sorreltail, we don’t have much time,” he began, panting as though out of breath. “We have to leave soon. You’re the first cat I thought to ask.” The young apprentice swallowed down a lump of fear in his throat. “A few nights ago, I had this weird dream…”

“A dream?” Sorreltail murmured. He glared at her, and she ducked away, motioning with a paw for him to continue.

“I was in the forest,” Smokepaw explained, eyes darting from side to side as he tried to recall the details. “I don’t know where, I’d never been there before. There was a black cat-- I don’t know who he was, but he looked like he was from StarClan.”

A dream in an unfamiliar sector of the forest with a StarClan cat. Sorreltail was starting to recognize the pattern. “Did he say anything to you?” she pressed.

He faltered, but nodded. “He said that there was a great trouble coming to the forest, and that I had to talk with three other cats on the new moon and listen to what midnight has to tell us.”

“What midnight had to tell you,” she repeated slowly. _Smokepaw is one of the other three._ It was real after all.

He waited for another reply from Sorreltail, but it didn’t come. Dispirited, Smokepaw sunk to the hollow’s floor. “You don’t believe me.”

Sorreltail shot up, suddenly alert. “What? No, no! How could you think that?”

“What is it, then?” he challenged. 

“It’s just that I had the same dream, except it was my father talking to me.”

Smokepaw froze. His eyes were wide as the realization dawned on him. “You’re… have you told anyone else?”

Sorreltail frowned and tucked her tail between her legs. “I wanted to tell Leafpaw,” she admitted, looking away from Smokepaw and scuffing her paw on the ground. She felt her pelt begin to heat up. “She’s a medicine cat, so I thought she might know what it means.”

He paused before nodding twice. “She might be able to help. And maybe she’ll let us know if she knows anyone else who had the dream. It’s a good idea.”

Sorreltail looked back up to meet his eyes. “Since you’re from ShadowClan, and I’m from ThunderClan, it makes sense that the other two cats will be from RiverClan and WindClan, right?”

“It does,” he agreed, “but there’s no way we’ll be able to figure out who it is. We’ll have to wait for the new moon. We’re all supposed to meet then, and the most sensible place to do that is here at Fourtrees. If the other two cats have any sense, they’ll meet here then, too.”

“How do we know that they’ll show up?” Sorreltail snuck a glance out through a gap in the branches. The Clans were mostly separated now. For a moment, she thought she saw Leafpaw walking beside an unfamiliar golden tabby. 

Smokepaw thought for a moment before shaking his head. “We don’t. But if the dream was real, we’ll just have to trust that they will.”

“It feels a little unsafe to put what could be the fate of the Clans in the paws of two cats who might not even show up,” Sorreltail pointed out.

They didn’t get to continue the discussion further, though, as Smokepaw pushed her out of the bush. “They’re looking for you. Go on.”

With a regretful glance behind her, Sorreltail hurried out of the undergrowth and into the clearing where ThunderClan was gathering. Her paws followed the crowd absently; her thoughts were running in a completely different direction. Who were the other two cats? At least she already knew who one of them was, and she had a start to find out the others. At first, she thought one of the others to be Leafpaw or Squirrelpaw, or maybe even Brambleclaw, but now that she was fairly sure there would be one of each clan, she was less certain.

What did midnight want, and what did it have to say? What was in store for the Clans?


End file.
